Chapter 10 #2
“I don’t normally do this,” I said. “But I have to admit, thinking of how much worse today will make my life at West Egg makes
me want to lose at least half of my mind.”
“There’s a great place we can do just that,” Jay said, still watching my lips. “The juice joint. The queer one, where we met.”
“Did someone say queer?” Zihan said, popping up between us.
“The two of you are mad, you know!” I told them. “Going back there at a time like this?”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Jay said. “They’re going to say we’re lovers no matter what we do, so why don’t we just—” He paused and
watched me as if I’d finish the sentence.
Why don’t we just what? I could only shrug. Like Jay, I had a desire to rebel and break expectations, to dare the world to snipe me for living my
truth. But that truth was so muddied, so unclear to me, that I didn’t even know where to begin sharing it.
“There are several we could try around 139th,” Zihan said. “Let’s go, just to see what it’s like tonight.”
I had fun at The Green Light when we went before but not enough. I was on board because I was not one to stop a chain of fun. Besides, the sunset and the thought of the upcoming dance brought the hope I’d find romance in the summer, not with a stranger but with someone I knew.
“Okay, let’s go to The Green Light,” I said, and Jay instantly looked satisfied I’d accepted his rebellious energy again.
“What else is there for a bunch of outcasts to do?”
And so, we continued our night at the speakeasy in that alley by the water. Its walls were all awash in green light, giving
the environment a feel that was much older than we were.
This time I did not sit on the sidelines. I danced with Zihan some, and then I turned back to Jay. A girl was throwing herself
into his lap near the serving counter. I understood her choice—Jay was one of the most handsome men in Harlem. Muscular without
being intimidating. Big in a pretty way.
They leaned in close, voices dropping to whispers. Only I caught the subtle doubt in Jay’s expression—the crease in his eyebrows,
the way his eyes darted away every few seconds as if he was worried she’d see something she wasn’t meant to. He was carefully
plotting with her, his smiles and winks hiding sheer terror. I’d begun to uncover the story underneath, but still there was
so much more to find. If only I didn’t have to share him with the rest of the world.
“Do you like him truly?” a voice said behind me. It was Zihan, his eyes safe and curious.
“No.” I shook my head. “Yes, I mean—he’s nice. Of course.”
“He is a swell guy. Always very nice. But you share more with each other; I can tell.”
I simply didn’t know what to say.
“Come,” Zihan said, with a tender smile. He took me by the wrist, and we escaped behind the stage curtain to a dressing room with theater mirrors.
“Are we supposed to be in here?” I asked.
Some female impersonators sat on stools, their feet on the vanities. Others danced to music or stretched. Their fingernails
gleamed, and their painted mouths hummed along with the tunes. There was a regal woman with a big old blue wig, fixing herself
up in a mirror. The floor was covered with glitter and sequins.
“You know what you need?” Zihan said and picked up some green nail polish from an unmanned vanity, shaking it up.
“Green?”
“It would work for you.”
I shook my head. “It’s hard enough for me in school. Someone sees me in that, they’ll kill me.”
“Okay!” he said, putting down the polish and pulling a little skirt down from a clothes rack. “Start smaller.”
“Why?” I asked. “What’s the purpose of this?”
“Becoming more comfortable with yourself will allow you to become comfortable telling Jay how you feel.”
I’d first have to tell myself how I felt. About all of this—people knowing that I had been secretly forming a bond with Jay.
This idea of owning the narrative of my queerness held no power for me. It asked more than I was willing to offer, demanded a spotlight I had no desire to
stand beneath.
But everyone here was doing girls’ clothing too. That made me feel both under- and overdressed in my cotton pants, as if it would be more natural to experiment here than to hold on to my comfortable ways.
I went behind a dressing screen and tried the skirt. I didn’t know why I was doing it. I only felt half in control of my actions.
But to my surprise, it provided an odd but comforting breeze on my legs. Something about it was freeing. It felt like I’d
shed a layer of expectation.
I wouldn’t step out from behind the screen, but Zihan came around to look at me.
“You look like a princess!” he said, with a big smile—not one of ridicule but one of celebration. “Phenomenal!”
I laughed quietly and ran my fingers along the hem of the skirt, feeling its fabric against my skin, and for a moment, I wanted
to see myself. But the thought of facing that reflection was scary. Could I even bear to see myself like this? Back in Oklahoma,
something like this would have been impossible! I would’ve never dared! People would’ve crushed me, cast me out!
Zihan watched me, seeming to read my mind. “You’re not back there anymore, Nick,” he said, his voice gentle. “This is New
York. You don’t have to hide.”
I received his words in silence. “It’s just . . . I don’t recognize this way of living,” I said, finally.
“Well, you’re not supposed to be the same person forever. That’s what this”—he gestured around us, as if to the world—“is
all about. In New York, you get to define yourself. You don’t have to be what anyone says you are. You can be anything. You
just have to believe it for yourself.”
I knew he was right. Here, in this city of strangers, I didn’t have to fear what everyone else thought of me.
The skirt felt foreign against my skin, but comforting. Like not everything had to make perfect sense. I could feel unsteady,
unsure, but also deeply alive! Perhaps the skirt was more than a piece of clothing—perhaps it was a door to stop hiding altogether.
I slipped back into my pants and followed Zihan out to the main room, feeling a growing sense of unease about how often Jay
had been crossing my mind. He was distant—lost in a game of entertaining strangers again.
We didn’t speak until the night winded down; Jay found me alone just outside the entrance. People were exiting the place,
slowly. The music faded in the background of the cars whooshing through the night.
The Green Light’s sign bathed the wide alleyway in an otherworldly glow.
Jay stood leaning in the door, like he didn’t quite know how to approach but couldn’t stay away. “Nick,” he said, his voice
intimate. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “Yes, of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” I thought we’d spend the night together and you betrayed me.
I swallowed my thoughts and felt my face contort with confusion, as if in shock at the current of rage passing from my heart
to my head.
In the moment that hung between us, it was like Jay could sense my thoughts, and he seemed amused by them.
A smile played at his lips that he was having trouble straightening.
And I was ready to scream and give him the real punch he’d been asking for earlier, but instead, I put my hands into my pockets to restrain myself.
“They’re closing soon, right?” I said.
He nodded. “Oh, yeah. I’ll see you back to school.”
“Won’t need it,” I said with a tight smile, and Jay flinched like I’d really hit him.
Zihan approached and slipped by Jay to exit the place, pulling Jay along with him. “Taxi’s going off duty in five minutes!
Let’s move, boys.”
Zihan grabbed my arm too and created a three-part link as we walked down the alleyway.
I was grateful to have him between us as I sorted through my emotions. Emotions I was not comfortable with. I couldn’t walk
away from what Zihan had pointed out about Jay and my feelings for him. I knew there was something there.
I glanced over and took note of Jay’s shoulders, tense and straight, like he was bracing for a blow. I couldn’t shake the
feeling that tonight, something had slipped through our fingers.